Bedroom producer got us remembering 2010…
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[6.50]
Tim de Reuse: A simple pop groove, sunny and fuzzy and made for shouting along. It’s also rich with sonic detail, and its layers stick together in subtle ways: the plucked arpeggios buzz around in circles, the guitar solo grinds like malfunctioning machinery, the drums and bass clutter underneath, and the vocal harmonies blur like messy watercolor across the foreground, singing of failing spacecraft and gigs nobody wants to be at. Expansive and rough and easy to let your attention swim through — the soundtrack to daydreaming your way out of a crowd, half-drunk and trying to recharge. Surely, I’m not the only one who spent most of 2017 in that state?
[9]
Josh Langhoff: In a triumph of sound over sense, one-man band James Cooley coaxes sharp, immediate sounds from rat-a-tat snare and guitar lines, yelping a convincing string of syllables like he’s pulling out his Modest Mouse impression at a party. Not sure what he’s convincing me of, mind you, except that he knows what he’s doing.
[7]
Will Rivitz: 2010 in a bottle, shimmering guitars contoured sharply by angular bass and sung-shouted vocals over the top of it all like a Peter Bjorn and John chorus. It’s nothing new, but sometimes what worked before ain’t so bad.
[7]
Ryo Miyauchi: The suburban guitar rock of Mesita would make a modest post on “indie” blogs post-Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix. Their earnestness spills into slight plainness, and the alliteration a bit too overboard, but that low-bit crunch intrigues enough to make them stand apart from the countless pack of others who deal with this kind of get-up.
[5]
Juana Giaimo: The chill beginning is broken down by the straight out doubled vocals which reminds me of Arcade Fire, but they are more vulnerable as if they’d break in tears at any moment. Unfortunately, as if afraid to go too far, Mesita ends the song too abruptly.
[7]
Nortey Dowuona: Firm, sharply drawn drums gallop through the near-invisible then pulpy bass, chunky, cracked guitars as whirling synths circle the quartet.
[6]
Rebecca A. Gowns: I like this song, but the voice kinda bugs me, a little bit too sing-song/shout-along for me to enjoy. More than that, it feels like it’s building towards something, but the climax never comes; it just builds and builds, vertically, more layers of the same. A brick wall constructed with very intriguing bricks… then it just ends there.
[5]
Brad Shoup: A ruthless, sparkling guitar-pop workout! The first verse is the literary equivalent, loaded with assonance and alliteration. But Mesita abandons the effort in a flameout of flagellation.
[6]